To Woo a Pretty Boy
by NightShade94
Summary: "Laying his jacket over the back of his chair he turned to the unsuspecting genius and put on his best you-know-you-want-a-piece-of-this smile on his face. He was going to woo the good doctor until he was well and truly wooed." Reid/Morgan Slash. Rated T to be safe. If you don't like it please do not read it.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer : If you recognize it, it does not belong to me.

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He had woken up to the sound of birds chirping melodious tunes instead of the usual urban noises of a city rushing of to work, and he _just knew it_. Today was the day. Today, he – Derek Morgan – was going to sweep his genius teammate/best friend/star of his late night fantasies and all round good guy off his feet. The fact that said chirping was coming from his cell phone was redundant. Disabling the alarm, he stared resolutely at the ceiling, and nodded to himself. The girls were right: it was time to man up. He was going to woo the good doctor until he was well and truly wooed. All those years of practicing on so many, many ladies – and the occasional gentleman – was bound to come in handy.

With those encouraging thoughts in mind, Derek climbed out of bed straightening up with all the ardor of a soldier warming for battle and promptly went on to cough his throat sore. In hindsight, that should have been his first clue. But then again, Derek Morgan had never been very good with clues. Sure, faced with almost any of the sick deluded creatures he hunted down, Derek could look the bastard in the eye and tell him exactly why it was that his blankie had been called BoBo. When it came to self-discovery and understanding however, he was well and truly oblivious. Case in point, the 'Spencer-vention' the female members of his team had arranged a couple months ago when they had quote-'begun to get embarrassed on his behalf at his utter lovesick-ness'-unquote.

Needless to say, supervisory special agent Derek Morgan had no idea what he was in for as he gulped down a cup of scalding black coffee in the hopes of dissuading a very tell-tale itching at the back of his throat and headed to the office; blasting the ever-motivational 'Eye of the Tiger' in the car.

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He entered the FBI headquarters with all the hope and anticipation of an inmate headed for a parole hearing; fingers crossed underneath the jacket that hung neatly from his arm. Clearing his throat every now and then to dispel the uncomfortable itching, Derek entered the bullpen, eyes peeled for the object of his affections.

There he was.

Dr. Spencer Reid. Sitting at his desk and calmly whizzing through a case-file, completely absorbed in whatever it was that he was consulting on. The weak sunlight that filtered through the Bureau's high density, bullet proof windows bounced off his pale skin and golden-brown hair, giving him an almost ethereal glow. It was almost unfair how aimlessly gorgeous he could be without even trying. How he wanted to run his fingers through the silky strands and anchor those beautiful lips to his own until neither of them could breathe.

Ignoring the less than honorable – but oh-so desirable – urges of his libido fueled mind, Derek made his way to his desk, every step mission oriented. There was wooing to be done.

Laying his jacket over the back of his chair he turned to the unsuspecting genius and put on his best you-know-you-want-a-piece-of-this smile on his face. Across from said genius, Prentiss, who had looked up to greet him, was now watching the scene unfold, completely enraptured. She knew that smile. This would be good.

Not taking his eyes of the price, Derek cleared his throat again, this time for effect, and drawled out the sultriest Good Morning in his arsenal; the one that had seen men and women of all shapes and sizes melt into pools of goo at his feet.

His Pretty Boy did not even _look_ up. Bewildered, he tried again. This time, he was able to register the problem at hand; _there was no sound emitting from his mouth._ Eyes bugging out, he raised a hand to his throat and turned to Prentiss, panicked. She was looking at him in entertained amazement. Clearly this was happening. It wasn't just in his head. He had lost his freaking voice.

Glancing at the still oblivious man in front of him, Derek fought the sudden, childish urge to stomp his foot. This. Could. Not. Be. Happening.

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**PLEASE READ THIS : **

A/N : So I know that a lot of you are waiting for me to update my other stories and I apologize profusely for the delay. I lost the flash drive on which I stored all the newer chapters I had written and have to start all over again. And right now, with the mindset I have now, I won't be able to continue the stories in the same way that I want to. So I have been adviced to put them on hold and get something new done. This is my first attempt to do so. This will be roughly four or five chapters long and since it is my first time writing slash, I would really appreciate the input. Also, I will shortly publish a JJ/Reid fic that will be roughly fifteen chapters long. After that I will hopefully return to the pending projects so please bear with me.

Please leave a review letting me know what you think.

-NightShade94


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, its not mine.

A/N: So here's the next chapter. Thank you for the reviews and the favourites and the alerts. Hope you enjoy this chapter as much. =)

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Almost half an hour later, Derek – who had fled to the refuge of Garcia's lair to recuperate – was still trying to convince his Baby Girl that this was the universe's way of telling him to just pack up and remain in the closet forever. His bubbly tech analyst, and her all-too-happy-to-help reinforcements – were all the serial killers in the USA and Mexico taking an off-day today or something? – would take none of it however, and the notepad upon which he had been writing his part of the conversation was just _this_ close to being torn in half in frustration.

"I think you are being very negative about this Morgan." JJ remarked. "Granted, your silver tongue would be an advantage in your greatly overdue mission to sweep Spence off of his converse clad feet, but you gotta admit, if you were looking for a way to intrigue our beautiful genius, this just may be it. You know what they say, when you stop trying to get noticed, that's when they will notice you."

Derek gave her a withering look, writing furiously. _Out of sight, out of mind._

"Oh come on Morgan, you work together. Your desk is right next to his for God's sake! There is no way you will be out of sight, as you so greatly fear." Prentiss scoffed at him. He narrowed his eyes at the brunette haired profiler, shoving the notepad in her face. _Met-a-phor. _

Penelope had just taken a deep breath, clearly prepping herself to go into one of those fast-paced, innuendo filled motivational pep-talks he knew all too well when the door opened and Rossi sauntered in. His relief at being spared one of the speeches that put his football coach in college to shame – on game days no less – disappeared at the next words that escaped Rossi's lips.

"Why exactly are we giving Morgan relationship advice? Or are you playing psychiatrist to all three of the beautiful ladies we work with? Bitten off more than we can chew have we?" Smirking viciously, Rossi eyed the notepad Derek was still brandishing under Prentiss's nose.

Groaning at his continued misfortune when the girls started regaling the tale to the senior profiler, Derek made it out of the tech office and toward the men's rooms, not wanting to be present for Rossi's reaction. JJ had mentioned something about gargling. Apparently it had helped when Will had lost his voice following a bout of flu a few months back. Well, his throat was about to find out what it was like to be thoroughly gargled.

A few minutes of said gargling later, Derek was beginning doubt the sense behind the home remedy. He wasn't completely mute now alright, but he was pretty sure that the wheezy gasps that emitted from his throat when he tried to speak was worse than being completely taciturn. It seemed nothing was going to go is way today.

The confidence with which he has started the day with had now dwindled down to almost nothing. Shoulders drooping slightly, he made his way back into the bullpen only to find it missing the usual suspects.

"They are waiting for you in the conference room sir." Agent Anderson's perpetually nervous voice answered his unspoken question.

Nodding his thanks to the junior agent, Derek hurried to the BAU room.

Now, Derek had never believed in situations being able to frighten someone so much that blood froze in their veins, no; Spencer's logical influence had cured him of such superstitions a long time ago. However, upon seeing the spectacle that greeted him upon entering the room, Derek would later swear that his internal temperature dropped to arctic levels.

His entire team – with the very conspicuous absence of one Dr. Spencer Reid – was seated at the round table looking for all the world like they were working on an all important case. Except, that the screen that usually displayed the opening presentation for every case, had an anime-like picture of a ridiculously muscled bald black man entangled with a slim pale one in a hug that just bordered on mildly pornographic. Emblazoned across the image Derek refused to focus on for fear of losing his composure were the words _Operation Milk Chocolate_. And if that wasn't enough to send Derek into horrified astonishment, the fiercely analytic expressions with which his team regarded him did the job.

So when Hotch gestured toward the seat across from him and calmly told him to "take a seat" in the same voice he used in the interrogation rooms, you couldn't blame him for wanting to pinch himself. Instead he chose to peer through the glass frames of the room frantically to look for the good doctor – you know, just in case this wasn't some wild dream his subconscious had made up.

Reading his actions correctly, JJ chuckled. "Spence is at the Academy, taking over a class at the Director's request. Now will you sit down? We have work to do."

Sinking into the chair with visible reluctance Derek wondered, not for the first time, what this was all about. Did he even want to know?

Seeing the skeptic al expression on his face, Rossi leaned forward and gave him what was obviously supposed to be a reassuring look. "You will thank us for this, believe me. Come hell or high water Derek, I will make sure that you get the boy by the end of the four day weekend we are getting off."

"Yeah Morgan, between the five of us we should get this done in no time at all." Was it just him, or did Hotch sound uncharacteristically enthusiastic about this? Now that he thought about it, his eyebrows weren't threatening to fall into his eyes either. A little something in his morning coffee perhaps? He would have to ask Beth.

"…Morgan! Concentrate! We are trying to get out junior G-Man in your bed here. Preferably naked." Penelope winked at him saucily, tossing him a notebook, inspiring chuckles from the girls and of course, Rossi. His unit chief on the other hand, _blushed_. What on God's green earth was happening here?

"Can we _please_ get back to the task at hand?" Hotch implored, looking mortified.

"I don't see why you don't just grab him and plant one on him. It should be really easy." Prentiss suggested.

Derek stared at her, incredulous. _Oh I don't know, maybe because he is Spencer Reid!? He has trouble with people encroaching on his personal space at the best of times. I really don't think he is ready for his best friend to kiss him senseless just yet._ His hands hurt from writing so fast but Prentiss carried on nonchalantly. "Just grab him and do the nasty."

_HE CARRIES A GUN!_ Derek resorted to block capitals in order to sufficiently express his horror. When his dismay was met with more laughter, he was not amused.

"Don't worry Morgan. We have it all worked out. You just have to follow these steps to the T." JJ tried to reassure him.

After wheezing at her barely audibly in an attempt to ask her what she was talking about, he resorted to using his facial muscles, momentarily forgetting about his assigned notepad.

"Oh yes. Operation Milk Chocolate consists of five easy steps. Follow them religiously and you will get yourself a hot genius boyfriend. It's rather brilliant if I do say so myself." Penelope was all but brimming with pride, as were the rest of his team. "Just do us all a favor and refrain from _wheezing_ at the poor boy." Rossi added.

Derek sighed, accepting defeat. It was all too tempting. Fingers crossed, and hoping to get pretty Boy horizontal before he spontaneously combusted, he wrote. _So what do I have to do exactly?_

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A/N: Reid arrives with a bang in the next chapter. Also, if you guys have any ideas as to what the five steps should be, tell me in your reviews. =)

-NightShade94


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